Demonic Symphony
by Thorned
Summary: AU. Carlisle Cullen stumbles across an ill, mute girl lying between the treaty boundaries. Disgusted by her condition, he brings her home to heal, where his youngest son can't stay away from her, and unaware that a werewolf has claimed her. BellaxEdward


**Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight -- that right belongs strictly to Stephanie Meyer, of whom I am not.**

**(A/N:) An AU I came up with while I was sitting in Sociology. Huh.**

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**_Prologue_**

Every ragged breath he took was like a sledge-hammer to his chest, causing his throat to sear with unflaming fire. Tears prickled forward as he stared out through narrowed, light-sensitive eyes -- an act that caused him great pain, but he did not dare to close them. Close them, and never again see the beautiful, pale face of his only daughter. Beautiful, despite the horrific pained expression it was currently twisted in; despite the tears that currently trickled down from large, doe-brown eyes.

"Bella," he called hoarsely, and hated himself all the more for it. Hated that h had been forced to come here -- been forced to bring her here.

But there was no other option, no other place that either of them could go. Rene didn't know -- couldn't know. Not now. And he didn't exist -- not to Rene, not to anyone inside of the small town he had once believed to be innocent and worthy of his protection. No. Charlie Swan had been dead for the past month, killed by undiagnosed pneumonia he had passed off as a severe cold and lack of proper sleep. A death that had driven his sixteen-year-old daughter, who had just moved in with him, to jump off the cliff of the La Push beach and into the raging ocean.

Supposedly.

"Daddy." Her whimper pulled him from the devised lies and into the -- fragile arms reached up to allow Bella to collapse against his throbbing chest, coming down to cradle her and card frail, burning fingers through thick locks of deep brown hair. Pneumonia would have been Heaven-sent compared to this unnatural, unreal illness. Pneumonia would have him in a hospital undergoing treatment that would inevitably cure him. Pneumonia would have had Bella safely in her mother's arms until he was cured, and then back with him, both of them living a normal, oblivious life in their small town.

"Easy, baby," he whispered soothingly, holding back the wince from the pain the words caused. She shook. "_Bella_..."

A shadow fell across him, cold and uncaring -- his arms tightened around his daughter's slim form protectively. But he could see Billy's black eyes over Bella's mess of hair, narrowed in disgusting sympathy as he watched the scene from his wheelchair. He could see the weathered hand reaching out to grasp Bella's shoulder, or to touch her hair, or to soothe her himself. Charlie didn't really care which -- only felt suddenly threatened, suddenly defeated. With a low groan, drip still weakly tight, he closed his eyes to fend off the losing battle.

"Bella," he heard Billy whisper, and felt her stiffen at what was obviously physical contact. "Why don't you let your dad rest for a while, eh? Go on with Jake and the boys for a bit?"

She was shaking her head -- he could feel her tears flooding down his neck, oddly cool against his skin. With an effort, he forced his eyes open enough to give his former friend a genuine glare of loathing -- tracing his hand along Bella's back, effectively urging Billy's away.

"It's ... it's alright, Bells," he murmured into her eyes. His body was beginning to ache in the bones now, his feet growing cold. He forced a tight smile to his face as she pulled back to look at him. "Go on with Jacob, baby. I'll see ... see you later." And he could see the disbelief in her eyes, the dawning realization on her face. Any other teenager as stubborn as his Bella would have fought the lie -- would have demanded their right to stay where they were. But she didn't, only leaned in to lay a tearful kiss on his forehead, before jerking abruptly back and racing away. Away to what, he didn't know. There was nowhere to go. They were both dead.

Ironic, as he was dying now. Here, on this God-forsaken land.

"Charlie ..." Billy could not even get by his name.

"I'm not going ... to forgive you for this ... Billy." He was panting now. Was it almost over? Selfish, but he hoped it was. Frankly, dying was killing him. "What you've done ... done to me. Done ... to Bella. Unforgivable."

"It was an accident, Charlie," he heard Billy protest softly. Heard, because he could no longer see -- everything had gone darkly blurry. But he had heard those words hundreds of times over the past month had stayed with this man and his ... friends. Heard them enough that he could detect the cool, knowing tremor underneath them.

"She's yours now." Charlie was slightly surprised he could muster up a growl. Or maybe it wasn't a growl at all. "Just like ... like you wanted." He swallowed harshly as the fire built up again, but this time it wouldn't be forced back. Flinching, he narrowed his eyes in the direction he knew the older man was, holding back the urge to slip beneath the merciless flames as he forced his remaining energy forward. "If anything happens to her, if you hurt her, if you _mistreat_ her, the may the demons have you. _All of you._"

He didn't hear Billy's response -- the strong words had taken all he had left -- it was time to let go. His head suddenly exploded in flame, and he moaned; a long, pitiful wail, having just barely enough strength to pull away from Billy's hand. It was over. Finally, it was over.

_"Bella."_

His last breath was drawn before his daughter's horrified scream split across the quiet reservation.

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**(A/N:) I was going to prewrite this before posting, but I just couldn't contain myself. I'll continue it regardless of flames, but I would greatly appreciate feedback all the same. **

**-Thorned**


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